Equilibristics, the Balancing Act
by hoarfrosted
Summary: As James grows and develops over the years, so too do his romantic ideals, his devotions, and his perception of the world and the people around him. It's the only explanation he can gather for his continued interest in the circus.


**Title: **Equilibristics, the Balancing Act

**Characters/Pairings: **James/Logan, Camille, Gustavo, Carlos, Kendall, Jo, Jett and others.

**Spoilers: **None.

**Rating: **T-ish.

**Warnings: **Suggestive themes (no sex, yay~), language, and circus-grade violence, which isn't really violent.

**Word Count: **17k+ (when I started this, I was aiming for 5k, but descriptions and ugh).

**Summary: **As James grows and develops over the years, so too do his romantic ideals, his devotions, and his perception of the world and the people around him. It's the only explanation he can gather for his continued interest in the circus.

**Author Note:** A few things. First, I've only been to the circus once, and that was years ago, and I'm pretty sure it was actually a dream I had. Basically, I've never been to the circus and most of this is based off research and popular media, so I apologize if my interpretation is too off base. There are a couple of possibly unrealistic elements in this story, such as a twelve year old performing in a circus, as well as certain parts of the routines. Try to ignore the impracticality in them if you can.

Second, this story is dedicated to (or blamed on, depending on how you view it) **joyousbrokenthing**, because if it wasn't for her Jagan blog making me cry endless Jagan-flavored tears, I'd probably be writing for another couple or fandom.

Third, don't hesitate to point any grammatical errors out to me. It's apparently difficult to find a beta when I'm not actively searching.

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim jack-diddly.

**Fun-fact:** Jagan flavor is banana and blueberry with a dash of cinnamon, for spice. To me, at least.

* * *

When he was only eleven years of age, James Diamond fell in love.

His mother had queried him weeks in advance about what type of party he would have preferred that year for his birthday, and he'd thrown out one completely direct answer, an answer that _shouldn't_ have been misconstrued in any way – a simple party with _no_ theme at all, just he and his friends hanging around in his house and playing street hockey and video games until nightfall. It was the perfect way to show that he was no longer a little baby – no more space-themed parties with moon bounces and aliens, or western-themed parties where someone ended up injured after being accidentally shot with a toy pop-gun.

If he'd ever considered it as an option, going to the circus would've been his absolute _last_ choice for a party.

So when his mother surprised him with five tickets to the circus, he was understandably displeased. His mother, of course, mistook his displeasure for excitement, sure that he and his friends would enjoy the day. "Kids these days all love flipping and death-defying stunts and what not. It'll be excellent, honey, trust me," she'd assured him with a lipstick-smudged kiss to the forehead, which he'd furiously rubbed off with a frown.

James had spent most of the day before his birthday sulking, dreading what was sure to be his worst birthday yet. Not only were his friends going to think he was still a baby – his chubby, rosy cheeks got him plenty of teasing already – but almost nothing about the circus sounded cool. Sure, maybe there'd be fire breathing and sword swallowing and whatever else, but it would smell like a zoo with all the animals sure to be there, and his mother would talk through the whole show, and _clowns._

James _hated_ clowns, like any sane person did.

But he didn't complain, not once. Did he want to complain? Of course! He wanted to stomp around his room and cry tears of frustration and scream at his mother for not loving him – the whole dramatic nine yards – but he didn't, because he couldn't. How could he show his mother that he was growing up if he continued whining every time things didn't go his way? No, he had to prove to her that he wasn't a child, that he was only two years from being a cool teenager.

Oh, he would still complain about other stuff, just not on his birthday.

The next day, Saturday afternoon, James was in the front seat of his mother's SUV, his three friends Domingo, Allen and Camille piled in the backseat. While his mother muttered something acidic about parking and tried to find a free space, James eyed the huge circus tent with wide, curious eyes.

The circus only came to Edina once every four years for about a week on its tour, and when it did, it was only a moderately popular event; it was confusing why whoever ran the troupe decided to set up in such a small town instead of somewhere more populated, but James didn't really care. It wasn't like he planned on visiting often.

The Big Top was striped vertically with white and red colors and a large yellow flag was sticking out of the pointed top, flapping in the wind. James squinted and strained against his seatbelt in an attempt to make out what was written on the flag, but all he could see was what looked to be a misspelling of the word 'Rock'. Huge red trailers and cages were poking out from behind the oversized tent on the opposite side of the parking lots, and James could see a big white 'R' surrounded by fire painted on each visible side panel.

"This is gonna be the lamest birthday ever," James heard Domingo whisper, followed by a giggle from Allen. James glared back at both of them, ignoring Camille's sympathetic smile. He made note to _not_ invite either of the boys to his parties ever again.

"Come on, come on, we don't want to miss a thing," his mother chirped and ushered, unnecessarily unbuckling his seatbelt for him. He didn't know why she was rushing; she always arrived on time everywhere, though she had the constant mindset that she was tardy.

Finding their seats took longer than expected. While it wasn't difficult to determine who the members of the troupe were based on their outlandish outfits, it _was _difficult to find a member who spoke English. When questioned, most gave a confused expression and spoke in some rough foreign language James had never heard before.

He hadn't really paid much attention either. When he turned toward one of the outer layers of the pavilion where the performers prepared, the flaps of the entrance ruffled as if blown by the wind, but there was neither a person nor a breeze behind it. He contemplated investigating for a second, before remembering the possibility of seeing _clowns_ and shrugging it off.

It was probably nothing important.

Finally, a dark-skinned woman in a tuxedo leotard, fishnet stockings and a fancy top hat directed them to their seating area with a smile. James had planned on staying back and asking the woman what her performance would be, but Camille dragged him up the steps quickly. Their section was mid-tier, but still close to the ring. The seats were long, hard wooden benches that would've probably left dozens of splinters in anyone's fingers unfortunate enough to rub against it.

As soon as the kids were seated, James' mother told them sternly to stay seated before she stalked off toward the concessions stand. Camille, directly to his right, blinked at his mother's retreating form before turning to James with probing eyes. "Is it a good idea for her to leave us alone like this?" she asked.

Before James could shrug in answer, he heard Domingo and Allen snicker on the other side of Camille. He leaned forward to glare at them again, deciding on a different answer. "Yeah, it's cool. Mom knows I'll protect us since I'm older now."

Allen snorted, "You're not that old."

"Older than you, little kid!" James tossed back, smirking triumphantly when Allen frowned.

"Yeah? Well I can still beat you up!"

James prepared to stand, ready to prove that he _could_ beat up his friend, but Camille slapped his arm and frowned before he could. "Quit being dumb, both of you." Then, she leaned closer to James, "You know you'll be the one to get in trouble anyway."

As much as Allen's smirk bugged him, James conceded that she was right; his mother wouldn't be happy with him if he started any fight. He didn't have time to anyway, as she was already coming up to them, balancing a tray full of the food they'd requested, including popcorn, hot dogs, candy and soda. The kids munched on their snacks while seats continued to fill up. There were still plenty of gaps in the sections, but everyone was beginning to quiet down, which usually signified the start of an event.

All at once, the lights went out with a drum-roll. James had to stop himself from jumping when Camille gripped his arm, desperate not to show any fright. Tense darkness blanketed the pavilion for a minute, before two bright spotlights shined on opposite sides of the ring, illuminating nothing but dirt. They swirled around dramatically before stopping on a heavy-set man in the middle of the ring, wearing a bright red coat, white puffy pants, goofy sunglasses, a black top hat and black boots. He raised his arms to the crowd, brandishing a sleek black whip in one hand.

"Welcome…to Gustavo's Rocque N' Roll Circus, the greatest show on Earth!" he bellowed deeply, and upon a crack of his whip, light shined on the ceiling of the tent where a large banner of the circus' name unfurled, followed by the bang of cannons filling the air with rainbow-colored confetti. The crowd around James stood and cheered, including his friends and mother, but he stayed seated. He wasn't impressed yet, though the man wasn't using a microphone or megaphone to carry his voice. Was yelling his talent?

"Prepare yourselves, for this very day, your eyes will witness unimaginable feats – feats thought _impossible_ for humans to achieve! Today, you will witness men breathing fire from their lungs as if mythical dragons, setting the sky _ablaze_ with magnificent embers!" the man threw his arms up and out with his words

Camille bumped James' shoulder and leaned close to him, though her eyes were trained on the man. "I think he's what they call the ringmaster, the guy who runs the show and tells the other performers what to do," she informed in a whisper, and James was convinced that she'd read his mind. If he ran the show, did that make _him _Gustavo?

"…today, you will see our performers break through the surly bonds of _all_ known physical tethers and _defy_ _gravity_ at whim! Death's fatal grasp has _no_ place in the ring today, for our performers know naught of fear, nor will they succumb to mortality! You will find your mind questioning the reality of…"

James started to tune Gustavo out, already uninterested in his melodramatic speech; his friends and, surprisingly enough, his mother were hanging onto the ringmaster's every word. Trying to focus on other things, James could hear the sounds of squeaky wheels rolling and random objects latching together, nearly inaudible beneath the ringmaster's booming voice. James figured the circus workers were positioning the structures needed for the first act under the cloak of darkness.

"…to be seen! Are, you, _ready_?" Gustavo threw his arms up once more, and the audience cheered, suitably amped up for the show.

The spotlights flew away from Gustavo and illuminated two performers – Gustavo called them Jasna and Miloje – standing on high-raised platforms, sparkling in their glittering green and purple unitards. The lights followed the performers as they dived simultaneously from their platforms, and the first act of the show began; the swinging trapeze accompanied by the slow tune of a trumpet from an unseen band. James watched with mild interest as the performers caught onto to swinging bars and flipped through the air, grabbing onto one another's limbs and stunning the audience with fluid acrobatics.

As soon as the two acrobats were safe on their separate platforms, the show moved seamlessly into the next act; two cages were rolled into the ring, one containing the tuxedo-clad woman from earlier who the ringmaster introduced as Mistress K, and the other occupied by two gray spotted snow leopards. They didn't look very happy to James. The cages were conjoined and the bars separating them removed, leaving Mistress K trapped with only a wooden chair, and the band's music grew grave.

Gustavo walked to the cage and handed the woman his whip before turning to the crowd. "Fear not, for only Mistress K can reign in the _big_ cats!" True to his words, Mistress K handled herself against the snarling animals with ease; keeping their swipes at bay with the wooden chair and snapping her whip into the air, never striking the leopards but hitting close enough so that they kept their distance until they were eventually herded into their own cage.

After that, the whole ring was illuminated as the fire performances began – juggling and dancing and _eating _and _breathing_ to the fast beat of bongo drums and slit drums. At the time, James thought it was going to be his favorite event, watching a performer stick a burning stick into his mouth and belch out gray smoke, and watching another hold a flaming rod to her face and before blowing a large flame into the air. Domingo and Allen were on the edges of their seats, something James planned on using for verbal ammunition later, and his mother was clapping at the show as well.

And then, _he_ showed up right in front of James' eyes.

The fire performers exited the ring to a lively tune and Gustavo began announcing the next acts. "Now, feast yours eyes on Yolo the Bouncing Spring, the Incomparable Nebojsa Triplets, Sheath Mouth Stanislaus Stone, Obdul the Strong and, debuting in his _very_ first live performance ever for your entertainment, introducing _Kid Elastična!_"

The acts filed in as they were called, some waving to the crowd and others tumbling their way into the ring, all wearing dark indigo unitard starkly different from the outfits of the previous performers. A trampoline was brought out for Yolo, who jumped on and immediately began bouncing high into the air with energetic flips and leaps. The Nebojsa Triplets were more comedic, three identical bald men stacking themselves up onto one another's shoulders, yelling at each other in that foreign language and hitting each other dramatically. Their antics garnered plenty of laughs from the audience, Camille included – she was weirdly into all of the slapping. Stanislaus pulled swords out of a rack, brandishing them to the audience before swallowing them slowly, wracking shocked and sometimes horrified gasps from spectators as he swallowed multiple swords down to the hilt.

Amazing as all of that was, James couldn't focus on any of it, because–

On the shoulders of a muscular dark-skinned man entering the ring sat a boy who couldn't have been more than a year older than James himself. His alabaster skin contrasted sharply with the dark, fluffy hair atop his head – though James thought he could almost make out a blush on the boy's cheeks.

"No way. That kid can't be part of the show, right?" Camille whispered in his ear and he nodded absently in agreement, focused entirely on the boy – Kid Elastična. When James had first heard the name, he expected a little person or someone without legs, not a literal _kid_. How was someone his age able to compete with the preceding feats? Someone had already swallowed fire!

When Kid Elastična rose to stand on Obdul's shoulders, James found himself more personally engaged in the sight than he had been with any of the previous performances. His hazel eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the shrimpy looking boy, waiting for him to fall from his perch and run out of the spotlights from embarrassment, like _James_ would have.

It never happened. The first thing Kid Elastična did was put his wrists together and hold his hands out in front of him. Obdul grabbed them with one hand easily and in a similar fashion, he grabbed Kid Elastična's ankles in the other hand. Kid Elastična's was held up to the world in the strongman's grasp, body supine and taut. Slowly, the strongman began to bend the boy's backwards until James was _so_ sure he'd break, bent the boy until he could grasp his own ankles, forming a perfect ring with his body.

The crowed hummed with excitement when Obdul held Kid Elastična up to them, but James kept his silence, his glittering hazel eyes being the only tell of his astonishment. Kid Elastična's face was contorted – not with pain at all, but with extreme concentration and…nervousness. James didn't know how he should feel, expecting the boy's failure while concurrently worrying for his success vicariously. It made him bite his lip in irritation.

Then, Obdul grabbed Kid Elastična's tightly wound body and threw him straight up into the air, to James' fright. Kid Elastična's body spiraled in the air momentarily before plummeting down, where his feet landed solidly on Obdul's shoulder, and he raised his arms with a toothy grin. The crowd cheered for him, _James_ cheered for him, jumping to his feet to cheer the moment Kid Elastična landed safely. It was enthralling and James' heart swelled with pride, despite the complete lack of faith he'd had only moments early.

Kid Elastična's performance continued much like that, him contorting his small form in impossible ways and flipping midair with showy splits and kicks and landing on Obdul – he'd even landed on his hands once _on_ Obdul's outstretched palms! It was without a doubt the most spectacular thing James had ever seen anyone his age do, and before the end of the miscellaneous performances, James had cheered until his throat was sore and voice hoarse, arms tired from applauding and waving.

When he was finished, Kid Elastična retook his sitting position on Obdul's shoulders, beaming with pride through his exhaustion as his gaze swept over the crowd, and he gave a timid little wave before he left the ring with the other acts.

After the performance from Kid Elastična, everything else paled in comparison – The Bitter Magician who'd made an elephant disappear, the acrobats who'd balanced themselves on galloping horses, and _especially_ the group of clowns who'd rolled into the ring and did whatever freakish things creepy clowns did. His cold hot dog had become strangely fascinating during their act.

The show ended a little less than an hour later, and the kids all filed into the car talking animatedly about different parts of the show. Camille loved the comedic triplets and the trapeze artists, Allen chattered about the fire performances and the sword swallowing, and Domingo attempted juggling with wadded up pieces of foil from his hot dog wrapper. His mother stayed quiet on the car ride home with pleased smile.

James couldn't make himself shut up about Kid Elastična.

Any time one of his friends mentioned one of the other performances and boasted about it being the coolest of them all, James turned to glare back at them an proclaim confidently that Kid Elastična's performance was _obviously_ the best, and he did so frequently enough to spark small arguments where he explained every facet of Kid Elastična's _awesomeness_. It turned so heated that eventually Camille stopped trying to debate with him, raising her eyebrows at him curiously.

"Gee, you sure did like that kid a lot," she remarked. There was no accusation in her voice at all, but James still found himself blushing and facing forward in his seat so none of his friends would notice his brightened cheeks.

"_Oooh,_ James has a _boy_friend!" James heard Allen call out.

He scowled at the dashboard and threw back, "No I don't! I just think he was…kinda cool." His voice didn't hold enough conviction to convince himself, but he didn't know _why._

"Ha-ha, James is in love with a circus freak!" Domingo snickered and high-fived Allen, annoying James to an irrational point. Camille remained strangely quiet.

"Mom, can you kick them out of the car?" James asked his mother, completely sincere in his hopes that she'd push them out of the moving vehicle.

She smiled and shook her head, "I don't think so, honey. Calm down back there, boys." Her order silenced the two laughing boys immediately and James inwardly thanked his mother for that.

After the car ride, James had to make a conscious effort to never mention Kid Elastična again – not to Allen or Domingo and definitely not to Camille, who would try and make his words into some romantic love story with her girl brain and embarrass him further. That didn't stop the circus performer from dominating his thoughts for the better part of the following month, making James perk up oddly when he saw another boy who vaguely resembled him and, sometimes, Kid Elastična invaded James' dreams. Weird dreams that consisted of Kid Elastična flipping and James applauding, vivid enough for James to recall them with perfect clarity when he awoke.

It was so _confusing_.

* * *

Four years later at the age of fifteen, James Diamond hadn't forgotten about Kid Elastična.

His strange fixation on the boy had thankfully fizzled somewhat after his twelfth birthday. Memories of the preceding birthdays had been replaced steadily until he could go days, weeks, months without a thought of him, and maybe James would've forgotten all about him eventually…had Camille not casually tuned him in to a low-quality advertisement for Gustavo's Rocque N' Roll.

As soon as he'd seen the commercial, memories of his eleventh birthday had come rushing over him like an unwelcome tidal wave, dousing him in the same enthrallment and confusion he'd felt after watching Kid Elastična all those years ago – the dreams had stopped long ago, but even so, James sometimes remembered the sight of a slight body cycling through the air and contorting sinuously in a large man's hold. Try as he might, James could no longer place a face to the body, his mind only remembering Kid Elastična's dark unitard and mussed hair and pale skin…and his blush.

Trying to remember only irritated James. The advertisement hadn't shown Kid Elastična at all, only snippets of the circus' main events, ferocious and talented animals, and _clowns_ – James' skin still shivered at the sight of them. All he could think of was seeing the young performer's face, seeing how he'd advanced over the years, both in physical appearance and ability.

Well, James thought of seeing the boy, _and_ figuring out why exactly he was so fascinated with him.

He hadn't considered that seeing his obsession in the flesh _might_ not have been the best way to solve his problem. Not once.

So, after the advertisement had finished, James immediately picked up his phone to call a ticket office and order two tickets for the first show. The circus would be in his town a week later than it'd been four years prior and he had plenty of money from his birthday to purchase the tickets – not that he'd actually been thinking about money or anything coherent while he'd ordered them. His brain had been sort of a jumble of excitement and fear and happiness and uncertainty and, well, a lot of uncertainty.

The second ticket was for Camille, who, after plenty of demanding and pleading and bargaining, had agreed to go with him to the circus. Not only was she already sixteen and legal to drive, but she was the only friend he had who he could trust with the information without having to justify being fifteen and interested. He hadn't associated with Allen and Domingo for a while, his girlfriend, Sandy, would spend the whole time complaining about nothing – he _really _needed to break up with her – and Kendall? No way. They'd only met a few weeks ago, and he was more of a hockey rival than an actual friend. James wasn't so sure he liked Kendall yet.

Aggravatingly enough, while Camille was James best option for companionship and transportation, she was also his _worst_. Those childish suspicions he'd had about her morphing his motives into something fantastically romantic had come true the moment he'd gotten into her car, and all she did was send him secretive smiles and conspicuous winks that she probably thought were sneaky and giggle randomly every time she glanced at him for more than three seconds.

James hadn't stopped glaring silently at the road until they reached the pavilion. He was going to get serious frown lines.

"I still can't believe you actually want to come _back_ here," Camille sung out.

"Why not? It was cool the last time we came," James responded while standing out of the car, not taking her obvious bait.

"Yeah, but not cool enough to come back and see it live."

"Well, it was awesome to me," James said in a not-at-all defensive tone.

Camille cocked an eyebrow, "Do you mean the _entire_ show or just the part with the bendy kid you couldn't shut up about?"

Inwardly, James was cursing her freakishly good memory and his childhood self for never shutting up. "_Yes_, Camille, the whole damned show, so can we get out of this humidity and see it?" James pinched a strand of his sandy brown hair pointedly.

"All right, geez. I was just asking, mister prissy," she held up her hands in surrender and smirked at him. James ignored her.

The set up of the circus hadn't changed much since their last visit. The Big Top was still in the center of the dusty lot, though the stripes had dulled in color and the flag was a little rattier than it'd been before. Instead of just one huge tent, there were now two smaller ones framing each side of The Big Top; one had animal cages being pushed in and out of it and the other was surrounded by the trailers, performers frantically running in and out of the cluster.

James' legs desperately wanted to run over to the cluster and find Kid Elastična, so he could…well, he didn't know what he would do – _something!_ – but he held his control, determined not to embarrass himself. Camille was right next to him and would never let him hear the end of it were he to purposely go searching for his not-obsession. That, and the knowledge that he didn't know if Kid Elastična was part of the show anymore kept him from searching.

He didn't want to think of how disappointed he would be if Kid Elastična was a no-show.

Their seats were on the lowest tier and close to the ring, the stands a lot fuller than they'd been for the previous show. James didn't get anything from the concession, his stomach too twisted and tight with anxiety – whether from seeing Kid Elastična or not seeing him, James wasn't sure, but he tried tapping out a beat on his jeans to dispel it. Camille gave him one of her cheeky smiles around her soda straw.

Tapping wasn't helping.

He didn't have to fret long; the pavilion darkened and two familiar spotlights shown, doing their dance before shining on the ringmaster, similar attire and same hideous sunglasses. James didn't bother paying attention to Gustavo's introductory spiel. He was here for one reason only.

After the droning theatrical monologue ended and a xylophone began to play, Gustavo finally began to introduce acts. James' ears tuned in keenly, waiting for that certain special name to come up, but no luck. It was the same starter as before, only this time, Jasna and Miloje walked toward one another on a tightrope, barely visible from James' vantage point. The two performers showed no fear as they transitioned from jumping up from the rope, flipping _over_ each other, and simply walking and displaying their balance.

While it was impressive to watch, James didn't pay much attention to their act– how could he when his stomach wanted to mimic their every daring flip?

And _why_ was he so fucking nervous in the first place?

The animal taming came next again, Mistress K in her tuxedo leotard snapping her whip at the same two snow leopards while holding them at bay with another chair. The audience was on the edge of their seats. James was impatiently waiting for it to be over.

"Do you think they're going to go with the same formula as the last time?" Camille spoke in his ear.

James turned to her with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean? The first act was already different from the last time. Is your memory starting to suck or something?" he taunted.

"I said same _formula_, you doof," she rolled her eyes as if her meaning was obvious. James stared at her blankly to show that no, it _wasn't_ obvious to him. She sighed, "I know the first act was different, I'm asking you if you think the type of acts will go on in the same order as before."

"I don't think _you_ know what you're talking anymore."

Camille huffed with frustration, "God, you're lucky you're pretty." James grinned appreciatively, not caring if the compliment was backhanded. "You remember how before the order started with an aerial act, then a main act, then a group act, and then the fourth had a variety?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, if they're going along the same structure as before, then wouldn't your–"

"Oh, shh, shut up!" James slapped his hand over Camille's mouth to silence her, gaze fully in the ring. "The ring guy's announcing the next performers." He didn't react when Camille shoved his arm away from her mouth.

Gustavo retook his place in the center of the ring as the two cages were rolled out. "And now, prepare to be dazzled and mesmerized by the mystifying dance styles of our next three resplendent beauties. Introducing, _Trois des_ Jennifer!"

The sounds of energetic woodwinds filled the air as three girls dressed in silken dresses of vibrant oranges and yellows danced into the ring, the wide sleeves and hems of their dresses flaring around them as they moved in perfect unison. The audience clapped in beat with the music, attentive to the girls' every hypnotizing twirl and elegant leap.

James had never been so disappointed to see three pretty girls dance.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, fingers drumming against his arm with impatience. The nervousness in his gut was slowly transforming into aggravation, the very real realization that Kid Elastična might not show gripping him almost painfully – and without coherent reason, seeing as Kid Elastična was both a boy and another person who _wasn't_ James' girlfriend and the whole situation probably wouldn't be okay with Sandy.

It was surprising how much he didn't care about her approval. She was a bitch anyway.

The group of Jennifers' dance drew to a close, each of them curtsying before floating out of the ring to let Gustavo take their place. James gripped his bench tightly before remembering how splintered the wood was and gripping his own knees instead. Camille looked down at his hands, clenched in anticipation and fear, then looked up to him.

"I hate to say it, but if your guy isn't in the next act, I don't think he'll be here at all," she said with an apologetic smile.

"He better be," James gave Gustavo a petulant frown, not bothering to hide his obvious fascination anymore. It was too much effort.

Gustavo waited until the tent was silent before he began, which didn't really help James' situation at all. "Weren't those beauties _all_ that you imagined them to be and more? Don't tune out now, because the show can only _improve_ when we give you Yolo the Bouncing Spring, the Incomparable Nebojsa Triplets, Elastična, and Sheath Hands Lucy Stone!"

He couldn't help himself; the moment he heard that special name– noticing the dropped "Kid" – James jumped to his feet and cheered before Elastična appeared. Camille stood and joined in before he could completely embarrass himself, starting up a wave of noise from the stands.

Almost as if purposely to torture James, Elastična was the last performer to enter the ring, and he looked…good – for a dude. From his close view, James could see that Elastična had completely lost all of his adolescent plumpness, bringing to the surface his naturally fit physique outlined _clearly_ by the tight fabric of his one-shoulder unitard. His face had matured over the years as well, leaving him with a defined jaw-line and a masculine chin, and lips. He had really nice lips. His hair was now styled forward with product that was probably greasy, but that wasn't really important at the moment.

The point was that he looked _really_ good and James drunk in the sight of Elastična greedily, etching the image into his memory carefully so he would never forget that face again. He didn't know what he would use the image for, exactly, but he knew he needed it.

"Are you trying to dry-hump him with your eyes or something?" Camille teased. James didn't face her to retort, just gave her a vague waving signal – he was kind of busy at the moment. "Fine. The triplets are funnier anyway."

Inwardly, James was grateful for Camille turning on the Nebojsa triplets, kind of like he was given privacy to watch Elastična despite being surrounded by spectators.

Elastična took his position in his own wedge of the ring – _directly_ in front of James, as if his close view hadn't been enough – with another guy who James had only just noticed, a shorter boy around his age with golden skin and unkempt raven-colored hair. Had he been announced? He wore the same unitard as everyone else and appeared fairly excited, but not purposeful.

Well, it didn't matter, because Elastična was starting to move and it was kind of really hard to focus on anything else. James stared unblinkingly as Elastična slowly lifted his left leg until his toes were pointing to the heavens, letting the audience get a good view of his excessive flexibility. Then, he bent over backward, never moving his lower body while his spine folded at a sickening angle, bending until his palms were flat on the dirt. From there, he kicked his foot off the ground and balanced himself into a perfect handstand.

Unnamed Boy – who James now understood had taken up the role of a dynamic base for the acrobat, in place of Obdul – stepped behind Elastična and crouched down slightly with his arms held out rigidly. The back of Elastična's knees hooked over Unnamed Boy's arms and he sprung up from the ground nimbly, folding himself in and grabbing onto Unnamed Boy's shoulders. His arms tensed and his fingers dug into Unnamed Boy's shoulders – James cracked a smile at the pained wince he saw – and then Elastična was lifting his body up _without_ aid from Unnamed Boy's stationary arms, lifting himself into another handstand on his partner's shoulders. After a moment, Elastična's legs diverged until he was in an upside-down straddle-split.

No matter what position Elastična folded himself into, James' eyes followed avidly, never missing a single aspect of the routine – the look of stern focus on Elastična's face in contrast to how nervous and shy he'd been four years ago, the way the solid muscles underneath his skin contracted whenever he moved, the light sheen of sweat shining off his forehead from the physical exertion, the frazzled look on Unnamed Boy's face when Elastična began to revolve around Unnamed Boy's body, twisting over his shoulders, around his waist and around his arms as if gravity adhered them together. James caught it all–

Which explained why James' skin felt so heated under suddenly _too tight_ clothing, and why his mouth seemed so much more parched than it'd been before Elastična's performance had begun, and why biting his lips seemed to be the only method of holding back the spark blooming like a bonfire in his chest. Watching Elastična – a guy – slide his lithe body over Unnamed Boy – _another _guy – was sending his rapidly developing body into its own little frenzy.

In some strange way, it was just the confirmation he hadn't been aware he needed, knowing finally that his fascination with Elastična wasn't just a weird stalker's obsession, but _attraction. _James Diamond, who had always considered himself staunchly heterosexual, was attracted to a dude! It sure as hell raised a lot of other questions about himself that he couldn't answer at the moment if he tried, which meant he was still pretty confused, and James didn't know _what_, if not straight, he was – besides Elastična, his dick had always been faithfully inclined toward women – but the recent realization gave him the freedom of ogling Elastična without tumultuous thoughts clouding his mind.

Thinking was overrated anyway.

Mind temporarily at rest, James leaned forward and dropped his chin into his hands, smiling serenely while Elastična finished up his performance – at some point while James had been lost in his thoughts, Unnamed Boy had started tossing Elastična up, letting him do various midair flips before catching him and repeating. When they were finished, Elastična joined hands with his partner bowed deeply. James' palms stung from how loudly he applauded for them.

And then, the strangest thing happened.

While the other events drew to a close as well, Elastična stood tall and his eyes swept over the crowd, much like he'd done four years – was it creepy to remember that? Unlike four years ago, however, Elastična's gaze didn't simply pass over him, it stopped _– _literally _stopped!_ – when their eyes met, bright hazels to deep browns.

James wanted to look around, to make sure it was _him_ that Elastična was gazing intently at, to make sure the moment happening between them wasn't just some cruel delusion brought on by his infatuation, but he couldn't for fear of breaking the spell that kept their attentions tethered to one another, and it was so _so _intense and potent and agonizingly consuming that James was sure he'd had the breath _squeezed _from his lungs so tightly that he couldn't breathe because – this boy, this incredibly remarkable, talented, gorgeous boy who made his heart rattle in his ribcage and his fingertips tingle with the desire to _touch_ was focused solely on _him_ for some unknown reason–

At least, until Elastična's partner tugged on his arm, forcing the staring competition to end. Elastična gave his partner a dazed glance before allowing himself to be dragged off, out of the ring and out of James' sight, which was _not_ okay.

Out of the hundreds of people in the stands, Elastična had chosen him to gape at, and James needed to know _why_. Did Elastična just miraculously see him in the crowd and notice how gorgeous he was? Could Elastična feel the same mysterious pull that James did? Maybe, as farfetched as it sounded, Elastična had remembered him from the previous show and was shocked to see him there again.

Well, that was probably the least likely of answers since that'd been four years and who-knew-how-many shows ago, but James was an optimist. There was no way he could leave what had transpired between them unknown, not when the next chance he'd get to explore it was four years away, if he were so lucky!

James stood, wiggled his fingers in front of his face to steel his nerves, and set off toward The Big Top's entrance, murmuring apologies to people as he squeezed past.

"Hey! Where're you going?" Camille called out from behind him.

"I'll meet you in the car!" he returned over the din of the crowd, urgent to get out of the tent. The clown act was up next.

The temperature outside had risen as the day proceeded, though there wasn't anyone outside to suffer it, at least from what James could see. As soon as he made it outside, he began searching for a head full of dark locks, until he remembered the cluster of trailers and the new tent for the performers to prepare in and jogged over to it. There was no one outside the cluster either; James guessed most of the troupe was inside The Big Top waiting for their acts to begin, which meant the ones who'd finished should've been outside or in their trailers.

He climbed the steps of the nearest trailer and read the silver nameplate attached to the door – well, he _tried _to at least, but it was just his luck that the words weren't in English. Some of them didn't look like letters at all, probably in the foreign language the troupe spoke in. James' options were dwindling quickly. If Elastična was in one of the trailers, then James would have to knock on every door blindly until he found the right one. If Elastična was in the tent, James would risk breaking the circus' rules. While getting into trouble didn't scare him, he didn't want to be barred from ever coming again.

James walked around the cluster, trying to decide which option was less taxing, until he saw a flash of indigo disappear behind the main pavilion from his peripheral vision. Curious and hopeful, James approached, well aware that he could run into a security guard of some sort, but instead he saw exactly who he'd been looking for; Elastična was standing near the rear entrance to The Big Top, his back to James.

A grin lit up James' face, then fell a second after, because although Elastična was close to him, James didn't know what to do or what he _could_ do. He didn't have a problem talking to girls – usually his looks did all the talking he needed – but this was a _guy_, a guy with chest muscles and broad shoulders and an assumedly shapely bulge between his legs if James had a close enough view. Did his looks work on guys? Would it work on _this _guy well enough to charm him into being James'…something?

And if James _could_ charm Elastična, it didn't matter because he had a girlfriend, one that he'd been frequently forgetting as of late. Even so, James wasn't a cheater. He flirted sometimes, nice words and all of that, but never actually _cheated_, that wasn't cool. So if Elastična fell head over heels with him and wanted to date him right on the spot, what would he do?

James was stuck in brief moral turmoil until flashes of Sandy's pretty face flashed in his mind – her pretty, constantly talking and yelling, accusing, clingy, bitchy face. He patted his right pocket to make sure his cell phone was there. He wasn't fond of breaking up over a distance, but, well, Elastična was right in front of him and he'd been planning on ending the relationship for weeks anyway.

Then, he realized he'd been standing in the same spot for five minutes staring at Elastična who, thankfully, had yet to turn around. Thinking really _was_ the enemy, inspiring cowardice. James Diamond was _no_ coward.

Feeling a surge of rightful confidence, James strutted over until he was in front of Elastična and gave the acrobat a charismatic smile. Elastična started at his presence, eyes widening and bare feet taking a step back. He was startled, but not unpleasantly so, and his gaze held the same quality from their staring match just minutes before. "Hi there, gorgeous," James' grinned curled and he gave a little wave, "I'm James."

James regretted not coming up with more than an introduction; Elastična didn't look like he would be very forthcoming with conversation at any point, still stunned and mute. It wasn't the worst thing in the world since Elastična was more attractive up-close, but James wanted more. The silence was awkward and he was going to search his brain for something charming to say, when Elastična opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it and blushed.

It made James smile, but it wasn't conversation. "I'm glad we appreciate how handsome we both are, but I'd like to hear you speak, too." James tilted his head so his hair fell over his face in _just_ the right way. "You gonna tell me what you were about to say?"

Elastična opened his mouth once more, and James heard only the faintest beginning of a syllable before a familiar booming voice interrupted.

"_Logan!_" Gustavo shoved the tent flaps out of his way and stomped up to them. He shot James a dismissive glare – one James returned with equal heat – before turning to Elastična, or _Logan_, and bellowed angrily. Not in English, but in that foreign tongue, so James was left gawking at them in bewilderment. Logan's face hardened, neither angry nor scared and certainly not happy, and spoke back, his words aspirated softly and evenly, unlike Gustavo's.

Unsure of what to do with himself, James stood on the sideline, gaze switching between the ringmaster and the acrobat during their verbal sparring match, Gustavo's face growing red and Logan's face composed and measured. Finally, Logan sighed in what sounded like defeat and, after a quick glance at James, let Gustavo begin to lead him to the cluster of tents.

That was when James started to panic. "Wait!" he shouted at their backs as they left. Logan looked at James over his shoulder and gave an apologetic smile and a wave before he and Gustavo entered the performers' tent.

That was _not_ how he imagined their first meeting going at all. Maybe he could deal with not having a perfect sunset and a flock of white doves fly into the sky as they had their first passionate kiss, but not getting to have a conversation with him? The only time he'd gotten to hear Logan speak was in a different language. Completely unfair.

Then, something occurred to James. If most of the troupe spoke solely in a foreign tongue, then maybe Logan didn't speak English at all. It explained why Logan was so tongue-tied – James had _kind of sort of_ hoped that Logan had been struck with love or _lust_ or romantic feeling, really. His dreams had grown harder to obtain, but he wasn't going to give up, not after what he saw in Logan's eyes for him earlier.

One thing was sure. He had to break up with Sandy.

* * *

Eight years after his first circus show and four years after their first meeting, nineteen year old James Diamond was determined to win Logan.

Gustavo's Rocque N' Roll Circus had only grown larger and more famous as time passed. The increased fame led to increased wealth, which meant the circus had better methods of promoting itself other than low-rate television commercials with Gustavo's pig face hogging the screen – James hadn't exactly taken kindly to the man after the ruined meeting with Logan. The circus started airing better commercials, gotten its own website, and joined social networking websites.

That development made things easier for James. He didn't have to wait in the shadows during the four year circuit the troupe took around the world. The circus' website gave him all the information he needed; schedules, updated locations, expansions and most importantly, current acts. Once every month – after repressing the urge to check every day since he had a life to live – James checked the website to ensure that "Elastična" was still performing.

It was tough for James to know the boy he had such abstract, yet simultaneously simplistic, feelings for was moving all across the world. He'd been desperate to purchase another ticket when he was fifteen, but the show had been sold out for the rest of the week. Following the troupe to its next destination had been another great idea, but his mother shot down the idea of missing school to follow a circus around.

So he'd waited, putting his _very_ limited amount of patience to the test. It wasn't like he'd had any other options; by the time he'd graduated from high school and started college courses, the troupe was already somewhere in Southeast Asia, which meant he'd had the freedom to see them, but not the means for an impromptu trip to Thailand.

Though he hadn't enjoyed having to wait, it was admittedly better that he had. It wouldn't have made much sense to jump into a relationship with a boy when he'd only recently discovered his attraction to one, and his head had been full of ignored questions about himself, his sexual identity, and what he wanted from a relationship – from Logan_._ As a teenager, he'd only been concerned about instant gratification – the physical kind that made the front of his boxers twitch. As an adult, one whose sexual preference didn't run along the deciding track of male and female, but one of beauty and character, James wanted so much more from Logan, the boy James had recognized as beautiful when they were naïve children.

Okay, adult James _really_ wanted that physical gratification too. Logan was a _contortionist_, for heaven's sake! The things he could do in bed…

Not only had he been given the opportunity to explore himself, but he'd also taken the time to explore Logan's heritage. Gustavo's Rocque N' Roll Circus originated from Serbia, and the foreign tongue that Logan and his troupe spoke in and etched into their trailer nameplates was Serbian. Once James had learned that, he began immersing himself in everything he could find about Serbian culture, language, customs and people. He didn't intend on letting a silly cultural barrier stop him from getting his non-English speaking man.

Additionally, James learned that, as good as he was with his tongue, speaking in foreign languages wasn't his forté. Luckily, he'd invested in a handy Serbian-to-English dictionary.

Driving into the parking lot of the pavilion sent a wave of nostalgia washing over James. The troupe had invested in a new tent, so while it had the same color pattern, it didn't look filthy and worn like it had four years ago. Their trailers had increased in number and size too, clean and shining with proof of the circus' prosperity. Finding parking was a hassle with the amount of people attending the show, enough to mildly annoy James.

In the passenger seat sat Kendall, who was looking around with palpable skepticism. Camille hadn't wanted to miss a day of classes for another of James' "romantic endeavors" now that semester finals were right around the corner, but Kendall, who'd become one of James' closest friends over the years, was fully willing ditch. Camille had assured them they would fail their exams, but gave them her blessings anyway, along with a _not_-sly wink to James. James hadn't filled Kendall in on why they were at the circus, only given some vague explanation about meeting someone.

"This is gonna be freaky, isn't it?" Kendall asked when they exited James' car and started walking side-by-side, squinting into The Big Top's entrance through the bright rays of the sun.

James held his laughter back, humored at the knowledge of Kendall's aversion to human bodies bending farther than natural. Hell, he looked away when Camille demonstrated her double-jointed elbows in any way. "Geez, you're not gonna cry if you see someone touch their toes, are you?" James taunted with a smirk.

Kendall glared at him stonily, "As long as you don't chicken out when you see a clown."

James smirk fell into a frown. "Hey, clowns are creepy! Don't pretend they freak you out too!"

"They don't," Kendall shrugged. "Then again, I'm not a _chicken_."

"Remind me why I invited you here?" Beside the need for unwitting moral support, James added in his head.

He shrugged again, "How should I know? I thought it was a dumb idea in the first place. You never needed a wingman before, only when – _wait!_" Kendall slammed his palm against James' chest to halt him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You're not trying to set us up with those fraternal twins again, are you? I told you there's no way I'm dating a chick if you're dating her identical brother, that's weird. And a date at a circus? Really?"

"Dude, chill," James pushed Kendall's hand away and resumed his pace. "This isn't another date or anything like that." After he'd met Logan, James had went on a number dates with both girls and boys – he _was_ a guy, after all. He'd never looked for anything serious, not when Logan still had his heart so ensnared. It was more like practice for something bigger…and to get his rocks off. "This one's different."

Kendall quirked one prominent eyebrow. "'Different', huh?"

"Yeah, different."

"Different how?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"Different 'cause he's different, so shut it," James ground out, agitated with Kendall's prying. He preferred _silent_ support, especially when being asked a question he couldn't put into words for an answer.

"_D'aww_, is James embarrassed about having feelings for someone beyond fucking?"

James elbowed Kendall in the ribs and hissed, "Knock it off." They were in front of The Big Top already and over the large crowd of people, James could see where the performer's changing tent was set up, similar to how it'd been his last visit. James' eyes glittered with anticipation, sure that Logan was somewhere in the cluster; he'd triple checked the website for current acts before making the trip. He was _so close_.

He absentmindedly shoved Kendall in the direction of the entrance, "Go find our seats, I'll be there in a minute," before weaving through the crowd toward the cluster of trailers. Kendall yelled behind him, but James didn't pay it any mind – how could he with Logan only a few feet away?

When he was near the cluster and none of the troupe members paid him any mind in their haste, James thought he was home free. All he had to do was find the trailer marked with a title related Logan – maybe Elastična or contortionist. Those translations he remembered by heart. For the others, he had the small Serbian-to-English dictionary in his pocket.

He didn't make it very far. Before he could enter the perimeter of the cluster, a hand shot out to block his path, forcing him to take a dazed step backward. Into his view stepped a tall, ridiculously muscular man. No wait, he knew who this was! He was the strongman from Logan's first performance, Obdul.

James grinned with feigned familiarity, "Oh hey, I remember you from eight years ago! Nice to see you again, buddy, glad you're alive. Now, if you don't mind, I kinda have to go see my future boyfriend, Logan. You know, _Ee-las-teech-ha_?" he pronounced the name awkwardly, frowning briefly when it didn't sound right in his ears. "So, if you'd kindly move, I'll just…"

James tried to casually sidestep Obdul, only to end up with an arm across his chest shoving him right back. He glared at Obdul, whose face hadn't moved. No humor, no anger, no annoyance, nothing. It was frightening. "So, I'm getting the feeling that you're not going let me pass, right?"

Obdul didn't respond.

"Not even if I tell you that you're blocking the path to my happiness?"

Obdul didn't respond.

"Do you speak, like, Serbian…or at all?"

Obdul didn't respond.

James huffed and crossed his arms, then dashed past Obdul – fast enough to surprise the strongman, but not fast enough to gain any distance. Obdul hooked his hand into the back of James' v-neck and yanked him back, harsh enough so James' feet actually left the ground for a full second, but polite enough to hold onto James until he regained his footing.

With his clothes at risk, James accepted his temporary defeat. He glowered and pointed his index finger at Obdul, "You're not nice, and one day, you'll regret getting in the way of true love!"

Obdul didn't respond.

James straightened his shirt out pointedly before storming off to The Big Top, mood considerably lowered.

The stands were the most filled James had ever seen them, to the point where he wasn't sure he would _have _a seat to find, until a familiar whistle, one used specifically by his old high school hockey team, pierced through the buzz of the crowd. James pushed through the mostly seated crowd in the lowest tier of the stands until he found Kendall, who scooted over to allow James a spot on the bench. The benches were new and devoid of splintered wood, James noted.

As soon as James took his seat, Kendall immediately started grilling him for information. "What took you so long? I think this thing's starting any minute now."

James shrugged, "Ran into a roadblock, kind of."

"So you didn't get to see your guy yet?" Kendall asked with genuine sympathy. When James shook his head, Kendall continued, "Well, do you know where he's at? Shouldn't you be trying to find him now, _before_ the show starts?"

"Nah, he's not in the stands," answered James with a covert smile.

Kendall wasn't amused. "Where the hell is that jerk then? Did he stand you up?" he stood up from his seat with an outraged expression on James' behalf, emerald eyes searching for someone he didn't know. James beamed; Kendall's fierce protectiveness over his friends and family never ceased to amaze. "I'll be pissed if I have to sit through this show for nothing."

James smile dropped, erasing whatever nice thoughts he'd had about Kendall, and he grabbed his friend's arm to drag him back to his seat. "Calm down, he's here, just not in the stands."

Clearly not catching on, Kendall started to ask another question until the lights shut off and drew his attention. James watched the familiar start of the show with disinterest and plenty of edginess; the swirling spotlights, Gustavo's longwinded monologue with heavy use of adjectives, the crowd's enthusiastic cheers. He couldn't muster up the care to pay attention to the first event with Jasna and Miloje, who had returned to their original flying trapeze act. Kendall beside him was absorbed in the act enough not to ask any questions other than who "the big guy in the dorky outfit" was. James hadn't given Gustavo a kind description.

When the unseen band began playing a hard rock ballad, James nearly fell out of his seat in surprise. Never before had the circus played any contemporary music, especially not for Mistress K's cat taming routine. James looked down to see no cages or animals, but a large cannon on one side of the ring and a pool of water on the other. That was different.

Curious, he tuned in to Gustavo. "…to have your minds _blown_ and your misgivings about the durability of the human body _shattered_ as our next performer _explodes_ into the sky and splashes into this tiny, _tiny _tank of water. Give a warm, _fiery_ welcome to our very own daredevil fallen from the stars, _El Meteorito Humano_!"

The stands erupted in cheer as man in a white jumpsuit and a dark helmet ran into the ring, arms held up in premature victory to pump up the crowd. It took James a moment of searching his memory, but he finally remembered where he'd seen golden-skinned enthusiastic man; he was Logan's unnamed partner from four years ago, only he seemed to have found his place in the troupe.

Meteorito grinned toothily at the crowd and tapped his helmet raucously before he climbed into the cannon, _way_ too excited for someone who was going to be shot into the sky. Gustavo pointed at random places in the stands, "Let's have a countdown, shall we?" He pumped his fist into the air at every number while the audience counted down from ten. A crew member set the cannon's wick alight when the count reached five. Just as the audience reached zero, Meteorito blasted from the cannon with a show of fire and smoke, flying headfirst into the sky and then curling into a cannonball before he splashed soundly into the tank of water.

A tense silence passed when Meteorito stayed submerged. When the daredevil broke the surface with a triumphant howl, the cheering recommenced at his success. Kendall jumped to his feet and applauded with loud whooping. James gave his friend a questioning smirk and Kendall flushed lightly at his own excitement. "Shut up, that was awesome and you know it," he defended before sitting down again.

Gustavo wiped his hand over forehead theatrically and chortled, "Phew! Even _I_ wasn't sure he would make it!" He paused while pieces of equipment were rolled and pushed in front of him, then continued, "Now, if you think you can handle it, Edina, feast your eyes on more _un_controlled danger with Sheath Hands Lucy Stone, _Dague_ and The Incredibly Handsome Man, and Dragoslav the Dragon Slayer!" The performers appeared under fierce orchestra music as they were called, three of them carrying weapons with them.

The first performer had long black hair streaked red and a possibly angry face. Lucy – James hadn't paid her any attention four years ago – held three swords in her hand by their hilts and began throwing them up into the air and juggling them, never once catching the blades. Periodically, a crew member threw an extra sword to her and she added it into her juggling. Dragoslav unhooked his bow from his back and set his aim into the stands, sparking a few alarmed gasps, before pulling his aim high above where a target shaped comically like a green dragon with heart-shaped balloon floating at its center stood on a pole, one of many that surrounded the stands. Dragoslav shot the arrow and hit the balloon dead on, releasing a shower of confetti onto the crowd below. He repeated his actions for every target.

Dague was a woman with blonde haired tied in a side-ponytail and a belt full of holstered knives around her waist. She positioned herself a reasonable distance away from The Incredibly Handsome Man – not as handsome as James, of course, but his sparking green eyes and cocky smirk gave credit to his title – while he was being strapped spread-eagle to a circular target board. When the board began to spin, Dague started launching her knives at it, framing the handsome man's body closely on both sides with blades. When she ran out of space at the unflappably confident handsome man's sides, she launched her last dagger – James, Kendall _and_ the handsome man shared a collective flinch – between his legs _just_ below his crotch, smirking at his hateful glower.

Though James was horribly anxious to see Logan, the blade acts had been entertaining, so he applauded with genuine enthusiasm as the performers bowed and exited the ring. Besides, Logan was going to be up next, flexing and bending his body right in front of James. How would he look after four years? Would have a beard or huge muscles or long hair or–

The lights dimmed again, startling James. Never before had the show darkened dramatically before the miscellaneous acts. What if there had been an accident – with _Logan?_

Gustavo spoke with the spotlights on him. "For today's featured event, we bring you the remarkable performer who began his career with the Rocque N' Roll Circus eight years ago in this very town as a young boy. Now, eight glorious years later, he says goodbye to his troupe, his family, and his fans. Give your attention to the _final_ performance of our very own, Elastična!"

The lights moved to illuminate Logan in a black unitard – James' lungs chose that moment stop functioning because _fuck_ did he look good – in front of two long lengths of blue silk. The slow strings of a single bouzouki echoed through the pavilion and signified the start of Logan's routine; he grasped the lengths of fabric together and climbed until he was midway up and eye-level with the high-tier stands.

Logan started off _relatively_ simple, wrapping the one length of silk around one foot before bending backwards with second foot braced higher up, giving the illusion that he was standing sideways. Then, he wrapped the second length around his other foot and lowered himself into front-split, toes pointed horizontally and hands clasped above his head. Pushing himself up by his feet, he wrapped the lengths around each of his arms and unwound his feet, hanging only by the strength of his upper body while his legs diverged into a straddle-split.

After that, the routine grew more complicated. Logan twined each fabric separately around his thighs and his calves before untwining his arms and doubling over to grab free fabric beneath his feet, forcing his body to curl backward with his feet directly above his head. Using the lengths already in his hands, he quickly wound them around his midsection and across his back before righting himself and letting his weight roll the silk around his calves up to his thighs. There, he took a seated position midair, his fingers unwinding the fabrics in his grasp and holding them up so they resembled two blue, shimmering wings.

The crowd around James murmured with quiet astonishment. Kendall, despite the amount of extent of Logan's flexibility, didn't look away. James couldn't do anything, his mind a complete blank of _everything_ and _everyone_ that wasn't Logan, his every sense experiencing tunnel vision. He was positive of how foolish he'd look to anyone with his mouth hung open and his wide and focused, but couldn't muster up enough care – not when he had Logan dancing in front of him, movements concentrated and coy and mysterious, and James could see the sheet of perspiration covering Logan's body and the strain of his muscles through his skin-tight clothing, even from a distance.

As Logan's routine drew to a close, James knew nothing would compare to the unearthly splendor of Logan's final performance – no other person, none of Logan's past performances, _nothing_; he was captivated when Logan spun silk around his arms and legs and hung mummified upside-down, _thrilled_ when Logan was suspended from his ankles in a slow rotation, and his heart had nearly leapt out of his throat when Logan bunched silk around his waist and between his legs before unwinding downward a short distance before catching himself in a silken cradle.

When he was finished, Logan slid to the ground and bowed low. Everyone must have jumped to their feet to cheer, everyone except James, who couldn't budge an inch, shakily wetting his lips as he tried to think of _something_ to do. Wasn't he suppose to be on his feet cheering his heart out with everyone else? Why couldn't he _move_?

Then, just like after his first two performances, Logan's gaze swept over the audience until he found James, out of everyone else, _again_, and maybe that's what he'd been subconsciously waiting for. Logan's face broke into a lopsided grin and he bowed again, for him – for _James,_ as if the entire routine, all those bends and twists and flips, had been solely for his enjoyment– before he left the ring.

"Dude, was he staring at _you_?" Kendall asked, but James didn't register his question, nor did he react when Kendall nudged him with his elbow. He stood and pushed through the energetic crowd, ignoring Kendall's perplexed calls.

He didn't have to go searching when he exited The Big Top; Logan was already standing near the entrance. Closer than before, James could see and mark down every physical change since the last time they'd met; the broadened shoulders, the light stubble over chin, the height…well, that hadn't changed, but that was okay. Short was cute. James liked short.

Logan greeted him with the same lopsided grin he'd sported only a short while ago, and James returned it with equal enthusiasm. He walked until he was in the grass and in front of the boy he'd been enamored with for almost a decade and said…nothing.

The pick-up lines he'd memorized in Serbian all left his brain at that _very_ convenient moment and he floundered, mouth opening and shutting intermittently, until he remembered how to say hello – _at least_.

"_Ćao_!" he greeted squeakily with a short, twitching wave, absolutely hating his uncharacteristic apprehension. Logan's smile morphed into a confused frown and James panicked. Was he supposed to greet Logan formally? He quickly recited the stuffy, official salutation with his name in Serbian, stumbling over accents and mispronouncing nearly every word. He would _not_ bring out his dictionary so soon. That wouldn't impress Logan at all.

Logan nodded slowly, reminding James of one of his college professors, and said, "That wasn't too bad, but when you say _ime_, you have to remember to split the word into two syllables, otherwise it loses its meaning."

In _perfect English!_

James gaped, mouth open wide in disbelief, because Logan had spoken English like he'd been doing it all his life – no accent, no mistakes, not a stutter. "Y-you speak English!" James yelled accusingly.

Logan didn't have the decency to look guilty, only blinked, "Do I?"

"I thought you only spoke Serbian!"

"I speak four languages," Logan informed with a slightly boastful tone. "It's kind of necessary when you travel a lot."

Though he knew it made sense, it didn't make James feel much better. "But – the first time we met, you couldn't speak English at all, remember? I tried talking to you but you never said anything."

"That wasn't because I couldn't speak English, I just didn't want to embarrass my…" Logan faltered and his face flushed like it had their last meeting. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."

But it _did_ matter to James, who narrowed his eyes at Logan. "I introduced myself back then and you were about to say something _in_ _English_. What was it?"

Logan shrugged _too_ casually, "I don't recall."

"You totally do." James remembered every detail from their meeting and if his and Logan's feelings were similar, then Logan would remember too.

"That was four years ago," Logan countered and glared. "You can't expect me to keep track of every–"

James shook his head slowly and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Only our second chat and you're already lying to me, Logan? Our future isn't looking so good," he teased. The defensive look on Logan's face twisted into guilt. James pressed on, "Come on, tell me. I promise I won't get mad if it's mean or anything."

Logan exhaled noisily through his nostrils and shook his head, "It's nothing mean, but…it makes me feel like a creep."

"What was it? Did you want to touch my hair?" James flicked his bangs across his forehead, much shorter than it had been when he was a teenager, and grinned. "Don't worry, everyone does when they first see it."

"What? No." When James pouted, Logan quickly amended his answer, "I mean, your hair is very gorgeous, shiny and all that, but I didn't want to touch it. Geez, this isn't the scenario I imagined at all," Logan sighed again. James waited with a smile, happy that Logan had thought of him so much. "When we first met, you introduced yourself, and I was going to say that…I already knew your name."

The cogwheels in James' brained creaked to a halt and he furrowed his brow in puzzlement. Logan fidgeted, but didn't offer anything further. "How...did you already know my name? Was I, like, famous back then?"

Logan's eyes flew to a wayward patch of dirt. "Not exactly." James stepped around until he was in the acrobat's sight again, feeling intimidating with his superior height. He didn't intend on letting this one slide. Logan didn't meet his eyes, but continued, "Before my first routine, I was trying to estimate how many people were going to be in the audience and I saw you and your family come into the tent, and I heard your friend say your name. I thought you saw me at first, but I guess not."

James concentrated, trying to recall what Logan described, but he couldn't recollect anything from before the show began that day. He groaned and wanted to stomp in frustration, "Dammit, I don't remember that."

"I do," said Logan with a nostalgic smile – he remembered his thoughts _that_ far back? What was this guy's brain?

"What'd you think about me?" James asked softly.

Logan responded without hesitation, "I thought you were too pretty to be a boy."

"But I was…husky back then," James' eyebrows rose into his fringes, knowing he'd been a lot of heavier than other boys his age at eleven, but Logan only tilted his head and nodded.

"I know. I notice things sometimes."

A brilliant grin lit up James' face and he desperately wanted to surge forward and tackle Logan in tight embrace, but he couldn't, not yet. "We should try the whole 'introducing ourselves' thing again." James held out his hand for Logan to take, "Hi, I'm James Diamond, nineteen year old college student from Edina, Minnesota. And you are?

Logan smiled indulgently and took the offered hand. James tried not the react outwardly to the contact, but couldn't help a shiver from the warmth of Logan's calloused palm. "It's nice to meet you, James, my name's Logan Mitchell. I'm twenty years old, formerly a member of Gustavo's Rocque N' Roll Circus troupe and born in _Valjevo_, Serbia."

The word "formerly" caught James' attention and Gustavo's earlier speech rung in his ears. He really wanted to have a normal conversation with Logan and get a feel for his personality so they could hurry up and start dating, but his brain wouldn't quit nagging him; Logan leaving the circus was pretty big. "You, uh, you're leaving the circus for good?

"Yep," Logan bounced on the balls of his feet with excitement. "I've finally earned enough money to afford a decent education and a few members of the troupe and I are going to pool our savings together to get a place, so there's no position for me here anymore."

"But you don't like it – performing for an audience and having all that attention on you?" It was one of James' biggest dreams, but he wasn't sure he'd share that information just yet.

Logan shrugged, "It's not my thing, but I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

The tone over his words was sad and accepting, and James felt a spike of protective anger. "Did that fat pig force you into doing this?" He had no problem with storming into The Big Top dealing with Gustavo for forcing his…Logan into anything.

Sudden laughter cooled his anger; Logan was doubled over, holding his stomach in mirth. James frowned, completely serious. "No, no, nothing like that," Logan grinned at him. "Gustavo yells a lot, but he's actually one of the most generous people I've ever known. I owe him so much and…," Logan paused, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. Talking about myself all day wasn't what I wanted to happen."

"No no, it's alright. I want to learn all about you sooner or later anyway, so why not start now? Besides, once we get the important stuff out of the way, we can move on to the fun stuff," James' lips curled devilishly and he reached down to grab Logan's hands in his, circling his thumbs over Logan's skin.

Logan squirmed but didn't retract his hands. "Listen, James, I know we have some sort weird connection between us. I'm guessing you feel it, too."

"I don't think I'll ever forget the way you looked at me."

Logan cleared his throat, "_That_ wasn't supposed to happen, but I wasn't expecting to see you at all and you were so tall and…_Christ._"

"I know, we both looked pretty great," James smirked.

"Right, and I know maybe we're suppose to do something impractically romantic right now."

"I was thinking of having our first kiss during the sunset."

After looking up to sun high in the sky, Logan pursed his lips at James. "The sun won't set for a couple of hours."

James huffed in disappointment, but wasn't deterred in the least. "Fine, it doesn't have to be our first kiss, but we should make it happen sometime."

"James, you're thinking too far ahead. We don't actually know a lot about each other–"

"Except that we can't look each other in the eyes for more than five seconds without wanting to kiss." There, James caught Logan's eyes with his own, peering into their deep chocolate depths in a silent challenge. In them he saw it, the same smoldering connection from when they were perpetually horny teenage boys, and it hadn't died down in the slightest, simmering just beneath the surface. James didn't know how Logan managed to keep so calm when all James couldn't stop his fingers from rubbing over Logan's hand. It wasn't enough, not at all.

Eventually, Logan looked away, and James couldn't help but notice his pearly white teeth worrying at his lip. More like three seconds. "Even _if_ that is true, I can't jump into a relationship so suddenly. I've never _been_ in a real relationship before."

"That's cool, I haven't either." James lifted Logan's hands and placed them on his own chest, squeezing them reassuringly. Logan didn't retract, only flattened his palms against James' chest. "We can learn how to be in one together."

"I feel like you're not listening to me clearly."

"I so am." That was mostly a lie; James was much more concerned with sliding his hands up Logan's forearms and biceps. He had really nice arms. "You're saying that you're not completely sure about our future. I'm telling _you_ not to worry about planning stuff so we can let whatever this is between us happen."

Logan rolled his eyes, "It's kind of hard _not_ to worry about my future, James Diamond who's already enrolled in college."

"You should try harder then," James nodded, letting his hands migrate up to Logan's shoulders, kneading them soothingly – well, it was soothing for him, at least.

"Trying not to worry doesn't change the fact that I have a lot to think about before exploring anything. I need to find a job and a good college and – I don't even know where I'm going to live yet!"

James' hands froze and he gave Logan's face a searching gaze, for the first time seeing the genuine _fear_ painted on his face. "Wait, what do you mean? Aren't you staying in Minnesota? Isn't that why you quit performing in Edina, so you could stay – _here?_" he let go of Logan and pointed to the ground with both hands, because Logan was supposed to be _staying._

Logan wrapped his arms around himself, "It's not up to me, not completely. I'm going to be paying for a place with three other people, so if there's a majority vote to move somewhere else, I don't have any other option. Jo and Jett are considering going home to _Valjevo_, and Carlos has his heart set on somewhere warmer."

James' felt like he'd swallowed a thick block of lead, his throat suddenly dry and his stomach heavy. After all the years he'd spent waiting and hoping and _believing_, Logan was leaving him _again_. James always had faith in his romantic ideals – true love conquered _all_ obstacles in the end – but the uncertainty on Logan's face brought reality crashing over James, and he suddenly realized maybe he and Logan _wouldn't_ end up together.

It wasn't a good feeling.

For a moment, James considered inviting Logan to stay with him, but almost immediately he knew that idea would fail. His and Kendall's apartment didn't have enough space for a third person, and he couldn't ask Logan to abandon his troupe members, who were very possibly the only family he had.

Before speaking with Logan, he didn't how badly he would've felt, but now that they'd gotten the chance to talk, now that James had gotten to a taste of Logan's personality – which was pleasantly quiet and endearingly nervous and sometimes sarcastic and _definitely _prideful know-it-all, things James didn't know he was attracted to – and gotten to _feel _the electric current under his hands when he touched Logan, he was devastated. Everything he'd envisioned them doing together – the dates, the potentially amazing sex, hell, just _talking_ in the same room_ – _were fading away and he couldn't do a thing to stop them.

All of Logan's hesitant behavior and his worry made sense. He'd already known of the low chances of them being able to see each other, let alone be in the same country. James could see it in his guarded stance – incidentally, knowing that he was already familiar enough with Logan's body to recognize the emotions it portrayed didn't make James heart hurt any less.

"Hey," James called Logan's attention when a question came to mind. "You said you and your troupe guys were choosing where you all wanted to live, right?" After Logan slowly nodded his affirmation, James continued, "Did _you_ choose where you want to live yet?"

After a silent beat passed, Logan shook his head. "I figured I'd side with the majority and go back to Serbia, but after talking to you for not even an hour, I…well, you made things a hell of a lot harder for me," he chuckled in morose humor.

"Sorry, I have that effect on people," James replied with a sad smile, only slightly apologetic, and wrapped his arms around Logan's shoulders, drawing him in close. If they truly had limited time together, James wanted to spend what little they did have with Logan's warmth to comfort him.

Logan snorted and thumped his fist against James' chest, "I can tell how sorry you are by your distance."

"Well, at least I didn't ask you out on a date like I wanted to."

"That's because you're smart enough to know we'd only cause ourselves more emotional damage."

James beamed brilliantly. When Logan cocked a questioning eyebrow, he explained, "You called me smart."

"I called you weird, too."

"Huh? When?"

Logan smirked, "Just now."

"Mean," James pouted

The banter gave James a semblance of comfort, like he wasn't sharing his last words with Logan, but he wasn't granted that small consolation. He could hear the cruel signal of feet crunching grass approaching them from behind, and he knew _whoever_ those steps belonged to was going to rip Logan away from him.

The sound of footsteps stopped a fair distance away. "Woah – erm, Logan?"

Logan tensed in his arms and tried to push away, but James tightened his arms, childishly hoping to keep him there – he had no qualms with being selfish. Logan frowned disapprovingly, to which James returned with a frown of his own, before he peeked over James' shoulder, cheeks dusting red with embarrassment. "Oh, uh – hey, Carlos!" he said awkwardly.

It took a few tugs, but after a firm punch to the chest, James released Logan with a reluctant whimper. James spun and saw the circus' daredevil, El Meteorito Humano – Carlos. "I can come back later if you want, dude," Carlos offered innocently.

James was going to accept the offer, but Logan silenced him with an elbow to the ribs as soon as he opened his mouth. "No, it's fine. He…my friend and I were just about to say goodbye."

"_No_, we weren't!" James spoke up, frustration flaring up. It wasn't how things were meant to end; there was _always_ a happy ending! Logan was just giving up too easily.

"Yes, we were, James," Logan returned, tone full of finality and _acceptance_, because he was _giving up to easily_. James scowled at Logan, angry at him for not fighting harder, angry at fate for not deeming that they be together, angry at his fervent hopes and wishes for never coming to fruition, and angry at himself for not being able to _stop_ anything. Had he waited nearly a decade only to have everything slip away from him so easily?

Even then, watching Logan trudge over to Carlos' side, James could do nothing but watch, teeth grind and fists clenched tightly. Carlos glanced between the two of them curiously. "Wait, is this guy the reason you waited a month to quit?"

"_Shut up_, Carlos," Logan hissed venomously in return, not that Carlos was daunted by it. Logan turned to face James then, face devoid of emotion. "It was nice meeting you, James Diamond."

James didn't respond – he _couldn't_, not with Logan unsubtly telling him goodbye. He wouldn't give up. He stood his ground and glared at Logan's back as he walked away, scrounging for anything to say to make Logan quit leaving him.

He didn't say anything.

Carlos was still there, staring at him pensively. James really wished he would go away. "Do you really care about him?" he asked, and James couldn't help directing his anger on a new, undeserving target.

"What do _you_ think?" he bit out harshly before stalking off, uncaring if the man decided to answer. All he wanted to do was lock himself in his car until Kendall showed up so he could drive away and never, ever look back.

He'd known eight years ago that going to the circus was a terrible idea.

––

A few days later, every trace of the circus' existence had been packed up and moved away.

The ensuing week, misery and silence were James Diamond's only companions.

The only time he left his apartment was to _reluctantly _go to class, and that was only when Kendall or Camille physically dragged him from bed. Finals were getting closer and, though they were sympathetic to his loss – well, he hadn't told them anything, but it was pretty obvious – they also knew he needed to study badly. He wasn't the brightest as it was, and missing chances to pick up on pertinent information would doom him.

But was their really a point in him going if he couldn't concentrate at all? He was so unfocused that his fashion sense ceased to exist and most of his outfits consisted of stained gray sweatpants, wrinkly t-shirts and flip-flop sandals. He let a generous amount of stubble surface on his face and didn't lift a finger for exercise. His hair? He didn't even _touch_ his hair. Why bother with his looks when the main person he wanted to impress was half-way to Europe by now?

The only thoughts on James' mind revolved around the former circus performer – his back as he vanished into the tent, the proper goodbye James _should_ have given but had been too stubborn and stupid to, images of what they could have been together. He was in a nightmare every time he closed his eyes, and every time he opened them, he just wanted to sleep.

But Kendall and Camille were _really_ annoying and never let him – they were pounding on the door to his room, the room he hadn't cleaned in…okay, it hadn't been clean before certain events anyway. Camille didn't even live with them and he could hear her shouting his name. The only response he gave them was a long, unfriendly groan which vaguely translated to "Go away!"

"Come on, James!" Kendall yelled with another pound on the door. "We promise this is totally worth getting up for."

James breathed out a series of groans.

"Obviously it's nothing class related," Camille assured. "I think we know you a little better than that."

James groaned again with an upward inflection at the end.

Camille hummed thoughtfully. "Well, you don't _need_ to get dressed, but we'd recommend it. Right, Kendall?"

"Uh, I guess? I dunno."

"You're not helping."

"What am I supposed to say!"

"I don't know, maybe '_yes,_ what you wear _is_ important'?"

"But it's _not_ important."

"I should've expected this from the plaid master."

"_Hey!_"

Sensing that they weren't going to give up and leave him alone to sulk, James languidly rolled himself off of his bed, crashing to the floor with a dull thump. He contemplated lying there after finding a comfortable position in his pajamas in hooded sweatshirt, but someone knocked again and he forced him up to the door and yanked it open, glowering at the perky faces on the other side.

Kendall grinned, "You look like hell."

James grunted shortly, which basically meant "Fuck you."

They gave him the luxury of lying in the backseat while Camille drove to their destination. James spent the entire time watching fluffy, annoyingly happy clouds in a cheery blue sky through the window, finding twelve that resembled _someone's_ face. Sort of. The drive was short, the car jolting to a stop less than twenty minutes after they'd left. James forced himself into a sitting position and peered through the window. They were in the western parking lot of their college campus. _Of course._

"You said this wasn't class related," James glared at the back of their heads, feeling betrayed and tired.

Camille giggled and shook her head, "It's not, I swear, otherwise I wouldn't have promised you'd enjoy it."

They got out of the car and walked along the pathway that intersected the science building's main entrance, James dragging his feet between Kendall and Camille. He hoped that whatever they had planned would end shortly; he had bed calling him and walking was too much effort, especially when the quiet only made him _think,_ and every time he _thought,_ he felt miserable all over again. Why didn't brains come with an off switch?

He snapped out of brooding when he noticed Kendall and Camille were no longer flanking him on each side. He paused and glowered back where they stood behind him. They responded with weird smirks, an emotion in them he couldn't place, but he wasn't in the mood for games. Or being conscious.

James faced forward, trying to find where this "surprise" of theirs was since they obviously didn't intend on not being annoying, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Nothing in any of the trees or the windows, and there were only a few random students on campus, some walking around, some sitting on a bench ahead on the pathway, and the sign–

No, wait, he _recognized_ those people on the bench. There was a blonde girl with her hair tied to the side – Dague, or Jo – and a guy with sparkling green eyes – The Incredibly Handsome Man, or Jett – and another guy with golden skin – Carlos – and another with dark locks styled upwards. And luminescent pale skin and deep brown eyes and adorable dimples and–

"Logan?" James called out, his voice too low to carry, so he tried again. "_Logan!"_

The people on the bench stirred and one of them stood – _Logan! _James felt lightheaded, not sure if what he was seeing was reality or if he'd gone delusional from his depression. No, it _had_ to be real; Logan was wearing normal people clothes – some cardigan-khaki ensemble that wouldn't work on most people – and James _never_ imagined him in anything more than his dark unitard.

Less, sure, but more? Never.

Logan looked like he was going to speak, but James' feet were moving too quickly and he tackled Logan in a hug before he could utter a word, squeezing him probably too tightly since Logan's breath was wheezing against his neck, but he was too happy to contain his strength. Logan would understand a few broken ribs.

A harmony of adoring coos from Camille and Carlos accompanied by a disdainful snort from an unfamiliar voice reminded James that his friends and Logan's former troupe members were near them. Their expressions all held varying degrees of approval – well, Jett's was more disgruntled than anything, but James ignored it.

While their support was comforting, their presence was ruining James' reunion.

With that in mind, James carried Logan until they were a good distance away before setting him down. There, he loosened his hold – he honestly wasn't sure he'd ever let go again, given how well things had ended last time he did – and grinned at Logan, taking in all that he'd missed during their separation. It was weird seeing Logan in normal clothes, but he'd get use to it. "You're here," he spoke lowly.

"I am, and you look like you haven't showered," Logan nodded and grinned back.

"You're _here_," repeated James, unsure that Logan was grasping the situation correctly, because he sure as hell wasn't excited enough.

Logan chuckled, "I think we covered that."

"But…how are you here – not that I don't _want_ you here," James rushed to amend. "I just – I thought you'd be half-way to Serbia by now."

"Um, the troupe tours other major cities in the United States before it returns to Europe, so I actually would've been further away from Serbia if I'd gone…never mind, that's not important," Logan smiled sheepishly at James glare. "I thought I'd be on my way there too, but while my friends and I were finalizing our decision on where to live, I guess there was a change of heart."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought Carlos wanted to live somewhere warmer, but when I asked him, he said he wanted to stay here – something about snow angels and penguins, I don't know. After that, Jo caved in and agreed on going to college with me here, so…majority vote won, I suppose, and now Jo and I are here to check out the campus." Logan shrugged, "I'm not really sure what happened, but everyone suddenly loved Minnesota."

"I don't!" Jett barked

Logan waved in Jett's direction dismissively and retorted with, "Democracy, Jett!"

James glanced back at where their friends were standing, just in time to see Carlos give him a spirited thumbs-up. Yeah, he could guess what had changed the guy's mind. James owed him something big.

But gifts could come later. Logan was in his arms right now and that was kind of important. "So, you're here to stay, right? For good?" James questioned, hope evident in his tone.

"We still have a few minor issues to work out, so I can't say for certain if–"

"You're staying," James beamed, fingers clasping behind Logan's back while he rocked them side-to-side gleefully.

Logan was frowning, but James knew there was no real irritation. "I didn't say that, you can't assume–"

"You're staying," James interrupted again in a melodic voice.

"Are you listening to me, James?"

James shook his head and answered honestly, "Not really. Do we get to kiss?"

Logan blinked in surprise, "What, now?" James nodded emphatically. "Don't you think we should wait a little bit for that, like after a date maybe?"

"Eight years, Logan. _Eight years,_" James spoke gravely, in case Logan didn't understand how serious he was. "Besides, we have the perfect moment right now. The sun is setting just right–"

"The sun isn't setting at all. What's with you and sunsets?"

"–our friends are cheering for us in the background–"

"They're not paying us any attention at all."

"–and a flock of beautiful white doves is flying out of the trees."

Leaning back in James' arms, Logan's gaze roamed over his body in examination, mockingly trying to find an abnormality. "You're still weird, you know."

"Is that a yes?" James wheedled.

Logan sighed heavily through his nose and muttered under his breath, but it sounded close enough to affirmation for James. He dove down and, even without the perfect sunset illuminating their bodies and casting them as silhouettes, an audience on the sidelines cheering them on, or a flock of white doves beating their wings around them, when James met Logan's soft lips for the first time, there wasn't a thing he'd change about the moment, because in his head and his heart, everything that wasn't the two of them melted away in an instant.

And everything was perfect and just how he wanted.

He'd never doubted his ideals anyway. Not _really_.


End file.
